


It's... a very silly fanfiction

by sherbal



Category: Monty Python RPF, Monty Python's Flying Circus
Genre: I don't know whether I made the original sketch more real or more silly, I love using old crone reference, M/M, an au actually, b/c I did use their real names instead of Samson and Grimshaw in the sketch, but close I think, developed from a sketch called "Blood Donor" in S03E13, no it's also inspired by another sketch called "registry office" in S02E06, so probably not strictly speaking RPF, you definately should see the scripts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-21 08:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10681803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherbal/pseuds/sherbal
Summary: Developed from mainly two python sketches, one is "Blood donor" from S03E06, and another one is "Registry office" from S02E06.For anyone who hasn't watched or can't remember them,Blood donor sketch is a blood donor(Eric) coming to a doctor(John), asking for donating urine instead of blood.And the registry sketch is about a marriage register(Eric) and his wife/husband(John) and three guys getting married together, b/c the register thinks he's actually "marrying" the people come to him instead of getting the couple married.





	1. Donating blood won't shorten your life

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think this can be strictly considered as an RPF, b/c the characteristics are based on their usual characters's personalities on screen.  
> You know, John being all butch and tall and very much dean-like.  
> Eric is more quirky and sheepish but surprsingly annoying sometimes.  
> I always like their interactions in a sketch together. But I can only find the train/camel spotting one, and the two sketches mentioned above and the solicitor who caught poetry in an off-licence, the moutain explorer interview one and some interviews.  
> Why, God, can't I just ship Michael Palin with any of them?! My life will be very much easier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly disturbing mentioning of urine, but i promise you this is not toilet humor(or you can decide it by yourself)  
> offensive language of gay ppl  
> but you know i mean no harm for this is a fanfiction of two men, for god's sake!

"No, I'm sorry. But you may not give urine instead of blood. We've quite enough of it without volunteers coming in here donating it." John glared at this quirky young man impatiently.  
The man stood before him was pale and lean. He looked bit younger than John himself and there was a strange sense of naiveness in him that John seldom saw in grown adults. As a doctor working in a blood bank, Dr John Cleese dealt with all sorts of people around here, young lads and old crones, street tramps and stockbrokers, hippie girls and government ministers. He had seen groups of radical feminists rushing in without their tops on and demanding to donate their young turbulent blood as a symbolism of injecting fresh blood to the current morbid foul male-dominated society.  
"I guess I don't have to say 'roll up your sleeves' , ladies." John stayed as professional as he could.  
Well, he was surely well-experienced at both blood testing and dealing with different people daily. But this young man, this blue-eyed lunatic truly bewildered him.  
"Please, sir. Just a specimen?" He implored.  
"No, we're a blood bank. We don't need urine. Give us blood or nothing." John turned his attention to his clipboard and chose to neglect the anxious young man.  
"I don't want to give blood. Haven't you heard that it'll shorten your life?" He shouted rather loudly. And the queue of blood donors behind them all heard his words and turned to look at him.  
"You mean, donating blood will take few years off my life?" A man asked him with suspicion.  
"Yes, of course. It's all been told on the telly. M' mom told me about it this morning. 450 millilitres will shorten three months of your life, it seems!" The young man with a strong cockney accent found his presence in the crowd and felt like he should pass on this horrible news to everyone in the lobby.  
"Oh, shut up! " John had to get everything under control for the line of people were already leaving the lobby. He pushed the young man aside and gestured at the passing nurse to keep the crowd from leaving.  
"Listen, my dear fellows. Donating blood is good for your health as scientific facts. Don't listen to this crazy man and his blabbing television program. There's no way that giving some pints of your blood will shorten your life!"  
The young man shouted out behind him, "you know these scientists, they said coke is good for your health too! Don't trust these lies."  
Now even the nurses who wore see-through tops couldn't get all those donors back.  
John frowned at the leaving crowd.  
And the big-mouthed young man patted him on the shoulder.  
John turned around and glared at him.  
"Now, can I give some urine?"  
"Why do you want to give urine?!" John shouted at him.  
To his surprise, the young man flushed and averted his eyes from John's death glare.  
"I don't want to tell you."  
"Then get lost! I don't need to call the security. I can get you out of here single-handedly by myself!"  
"But, doctor, I really want to give some urine." He grabbed John's elbow and pleaded.  
John looked at the blushing young man and then he suddenly thought about something.  
"I don't suppose you actually mean you need to use the bath room, right?"  
"Yes! The bathroom! Please! This floor's is closed down and I've tried all three floors and still can't find an open bathroom."  
John found this quite funny, as a grown man was too shy to ask for the direction of the toilet and had to ask for donating urine.  
"Please, I don't think I can hold it any more." This young lad gave him a sheepish grin.  
"There's bit sewage problem today so we have to close all of them. But I'll let you use the staff's." John thought about rejecting him and watching the young man wet himself and get a good laugh. But no, he was a good man, maybe strict, but still a good man.  
"Thank you, doctor. You're very kind."  
John led the young man to the staff's toilet upstairs and the young man trod awkwardly behind him.  
"There it is." John opened the staff's toilet with his key.  
The young lad thanked him and was about to go in. But John came to stand between him and the door. The shorter man looked up at him with surprise.  
"Now, say 'Donating blood won't shorten your life' and I'll let you in." John leaned down to stare at him.  
"No! I can't say that! You've got to believe the telly." Though definitely in desperate need of doing his business, the young adult refused, which John certainly didn't expect.  
"Say it or I won't let you use the toilet. You scared away dozens of donors today. I can't allow this uncivilized nonsense going around." The good doctor could see the blue-eyes fella agitated with anxiety but John was quite adamant about this.  
"No, please, doctor... John Cleese." He read out the name tag pinned on the doctor's white gown. "Doctor Cleese, please let me in. I beg of you." He grabbed John's crossed arms to try to push him aside but apparently failed.  
"Then say these words 'donating blood won't shorten your life'." John stood very still.  
"No!" The young person was very determined.  
"For Christ's sake, why not?" John was not callous, he hated to see this man suffer but he was still upset about the fact that he could not change this stubborn man's mind.  
"It's just..." The young man suddenly looked relieved then turned to be bashful, " oh, never mind."  
The good doctor's conscience now was rattled with guilt.  
"I'm so sorry." John moved from the door but the young man refused to come in. "I didn't mean to."  
"Well, thank you, Doctor! You don't shorten my life but you certainly shorten my self-esteem." He said acerbically.  
"No, listen, I..." John lost his words. "Do you need a pair of clean trousers?"  
"No! I don't need a pair of clean trousers. You need a clean conscience." He turned around and prepared to walk away.  
John stopped him immediately.  
"You can't walk out like that!"  
"I bloody well can! You mutant black-hearted bastard."  
John had to do something to make his atonement.  
"What's you name, sir?" He softened a bit.  
"That's none of your business. But I'll tell you anyway. My name's Eric Idle." He pouted his lips.  
"Eric, I'm very sorry for holding you back at there. It was very cruel of me. I want to apologize."  
"Well, JOHN. I don't need your apology, you perverted shameless giant!"  
"Could I at least offer you a pair of clean trousers? I've got one in my office."  
"I don't need your trousers, you great nasty twit!"  
The situation is bit heated now.  
"Shut up, you nagging poofter! Now come to my office and I'll give you a pair of clean trousers." John raised his voice and shouted at this angry young man named Idle.  
John was a teacher for two years before he went to college so he knew how to handle with misbehaved ten-year-old.  
It worked. The bellicose young person lowered his head and followed him amenably.  
The doctor handed Eric his trousers and closed the door for him. Just when John was waiting outside his office, an old lady came up to fetch him for a quick look of her test result.  
"John, yours is too big for me." Eric shouted behind closed door.  
The old woman looked at the good old-fashioned doctor with suspicion.  
"It's a friend...eh... a patient!"  
Before John could finish his sentence, Eric shouted again, "Could you get me a bag for my trousers? I don't know whether I can wash off the stain after I ruined it, well, after you ruined it."  
"I can explain." John said earnestly to the senior citizen.  
"John?! Are you there? I'm sorry I've got a bit on your sofa. I'll wipe it off."  
Now he could never explain.  
"No, lady, it's this young man, eh, he, eh..." John totally panicked.  
"Oh, there you are. I hope you won't make me say those words again. Television won't air them." Eric opened the door and tucked his shirt in his oversized trousers.  
The old woman named Tessa was shocked.  
"Doctor, how could you! It's three in the afternoon! Can't you do your fag thing after you leave work?" She poked at John with her shaky finger.  
"No, Ma'am, haven’t you heard about scientists saying it’s good for your health? He really should whip it out and have a quick one occasionally. You know, under all those pressures! He deserves…" Eric interrupted but was cut off by the old lady.  
Mrs Jones was aghast as this brusque young man didn't actually know what she was talking about.  
"How dare you say such horrible things! You'll rot in hell! "  
And she fled.  
"Whip it out?" John was stunned as he definitely had no way to clear the misunderstandings at this time.  
"Yes, your ciggies! You shouldn't keep them in your pocket." Eric said as he fished out three cigarette from the trousers John lent to him.  
"Why did she say I'll rot in hell? I say! You didn't tell her about me wetting myself, did you?" The young man poked at John's chest like the old lady did.  
John shoved him into the office and closed the door, in afraid of the further damage on his already damaged reputation.  
"Mr Idle," he saw he young man raised his eyebrow, "Eric, I'm sorry for what happened today but I've got some work to do. I think after you get properly dressed up, you probably should leave."  
"Alright, alright, as if I'm going to stay here any longer. I've got work to do, too, you know." He was putting his jacket on.  
There was a knock on the door, John opened it to see Mrs Parker outside, holding her test results.  
"Hello, Doctor, can you see my test results and tell me which blood type I am?" She then grabbed John's upper arm to make him lean down.  
"Mrs Jones just said something about you and a young man, Doctor. But I don't believe her. She threw her budgie into the sewerage once, silly woman. Everyone know you can't flush the budgie down the loo because they'll breed in your sewers! Can you imagine their evil-smelling flocks flying out of your lavatory?" She just couldn't stop talking.  
"Your blood type is A, Mrs Parker." John squeezed out a smile at her.  
"Thank you, doctor Cleese. You're very kind. Oh, and could you remind me a little of what principal metabolic pathway of RBC is, please? I couldn't remember it. I know it's not glycogenolysis." "It's glycolysis."  
"Ah, that's the word! Most kind, doctor Cleese."  
Before she could leave with content, Eric showed up behind the door.  
"Goodbye John."  
Then John realized Idle was wearing his jacket as well as the trousers he lent him.  
"Why are you wearing my jacket? "  
"Mine's got bit seeds on it, I just found out. You don't mind, do you? By the way, your dandelion is really good."  
Mrs Parker opened her mouth with complete surprise and fear in her eyes.  
"I've never heard such foul language! You should be ashamed of your self, young man. And doctor Cleese, I was wrong about you. Both of you would be hanged in my time!" She snapped and after snorted at them, she left.  
"What did I say?" The man named Idle seemed confused.  
"Just shut up, will you?" 

 

Note:sorry I always get confused about the use of "pants" and "trousers". So it's sad that one of my best joke in this fic can't work out for I have to change all the word "pants" to "trousers".


	2. There is something going on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very offensive to Irish ppl. I appologize for my sick humor. But it's really funny. So please don't read it if you feel like it's going to be very offensive.  
> I'm sorry.  
> very very sincere apologies.  
> I use the cutural references to get cheap laughs instead of really intended to hurt anyone so no hard feelings okay?

John was glad to see his old schoolmate Greg getting married, well, again, well, for the fourth time, well, let's not forget about the shady lady in Argentina, shall we? This new minister of oversea trade department was quite keen about importing foreign wives rather than exporting British-made saucers with queen's face on them.  
He was asked to be the witness, well, again, well, for the third time, because Greg's second wife was from China and strongly insisted that they should be witnessed by the beloved chairman Mao or nobody. So John didn't have the privilege of witnessing this happy and of course, comradely couple.  
He took an early leave that day and got picked up by the keen couple. The wife was Irish and quite athletic. She's got really fine bone structure and it seemed that she could lift up her sheep away from her fellow citizens by one hand effortlessly.  
"John, I'm so glad you could be our witness." Said the lady who gracefully crossed her muscular strong legs. "You know him, Greg, always so old-fashioned about strictly going through the standard procedures. In my town, people can get married even without opening a second barrel. I think, that's why I like English man so much. They're always following the old customse. Can you imagine that Greg's always trying to control my potato intake? Ha! Typical English gentleman." She looked at Greg with adoration in her eyes.  
The registry office was quite near. The lovely ride was ended in Greg trying to cover the sweet Aghna's delicate manly mouth to prevent her from telling an old story of her father in a goat farm with a Scotsman.  
John had been here for several times, not only for witnessing Greg and his beautiful foreign wives, but also for other old school chums' marriage. Despite the fact that he could name every cleaning lady's niece and cousins of this office, he never came here for his own purpose. Living an almost abstinence lifestyle seemed quite reassuring and comfortable. Life is already tough without a wife nagging around.  
"Hi, what can I do... oh, hi John! Didn't expect to see you here!"  
Blimey, it was the young lad from the hospital. You know, the one who wetted himself.  
Doctor Cleese would very much like to ignore this cheerful quirky man who was waving his long arms to get his attention.  
Just when he was about to cover his face and hid in the bathroom, his old mate Greg dragged him near. "John? You know Mr Idle?"   
"Yes, yes, met him few days ago." John said behind clenched teeth, trying to hide his fear and anger.  
"It's jolly good to see you here, John! Sorry about last time." Eric smiled at him sheepishly.   
"Forget about it. What're you doing here?" John wished he could flee from the window right now.  
"He's our register. Appointment at half past three, eh?" Greg nudged at the young register. "I didn't know you knew each other."   
"Actually, I just remembered I've got an appointment at four. Shall we, uh, speed it up?"   
"You don't take afternoon appointments! " said the young register, exposing his lie.  
"Yes, I do!" John was trying desperately to save his dignity.  
"No, you don't! Mary the nurse told me so. She said you like to leave the afternoon schedule clean and therefore have time to enjoy a bit sherry..."  
"What's going on here?" Said the elegant Irish lady who stood up and was like a tower.  
"John, what's wrong?" Said the loyal husband who stood next to his beautiful and absurdly tall and bearded wife.  
"Nothing! Alright! Nothing. Shall we start the procedure, please?"  
"There is something going on. " said the gorgeous red-headed creature who seemed to make the moonlight paler in contrast to her small eight size feet.  
"No, there is nothing going on." Said John, who was weary and tired.  
"I understand you have every right to feel mad, Doctor Cleese. " the young register lowered his head and started to weep.  
"There is something going on." Said the naive and sweet wife who picked at her nose with manners like the queen.  
"There's nothing going on." John said without glaring at the young man too much.  
"But I didn't mean to leave you with your trousers down and all wet and panting in the office." The young register said while sniffing. "I hoped he didn't fist you very badly."  
"What? In the office? And another man?" Aghna was shocked and had to cover her pale hairy hand over her mouth. "Ew! "  
"Shut up, woman! Your father did it with a Scotsman and three goats!"


	3. What happned before this scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rude language of gay people and loads of bad puns

Well, the lovely couple's marriage registration was ended in Aghna, the beautiful clingy wife, sat on top of the good respectable doctor Cleese who was hitting her with her handbag.  
Such fun.  
And now, for something completely different.  
The respectable doctor Cleese sat on top of his director of the hospital Mr Parkinson who was hitting him with his shoe.  
How did this all start?  
John was actually enjoying his day-off by ironing all his suits and trousers in his pants and with a cup of nice tea.  
Lovely weather, a little breeze and television noise in the background.  
It should be perfect but the telephone rang.  
"Doctor Cleese, you've got to come to the hospital. The director would like to have a word with you." It was nurse Maggie.   
"What's the matter? Couldn't he talk to me in the phone?"  
"No, it's this man, eh, your... friend. The director's very upset with him."  
"My friend? Who is he?"  
"I don't know his name. But it's your FRIEND! Doctor Cleese! "  
"Yes, but which one?"  
"What do you mean which one? Your FRIEND! Your flatmate! Your partner! Your companion in bed! Your..."  
"I don't have a flatmate nor a companion in bed! What are you talking about?"  
"Don't hide it, doctor! We all know! And the director's really mad with him."  
This is the beginning of a catastrophe.  
When John rushed into the hospital, the nurses were all whispering to each other and smiled very weirdly at him.  
"The director wanted you in his office." Said one of the nurses.  
He never really liked the director of the hospital. That bureaucratic bastard cut off thirty percent of the staff's welfare in order to suck up to the board and tried to earn a CBE.  
"Come in."  
He entered the director' office and saw the young man named Idle sitting on the sofa reading a magazine.  
"What are you doing here?" John asked him.  
"Returning your trousers." Eric smiled at him happily.  
"But why here? What are you doing here in the director's office?"  
"Doctor Cleese, I'm not interested in your trivia nor your personal life. But I have to remind you that you should keep it private of... this sort of thing." Said the director who seemed very pissed off.  
"What sort of thing? What?! Why is he here?" John pointed to Eric.  
"I'm very concerned of our staff's relationships with citizens. But I think there's something you ought to keep it under a low profile. Like your relationship with this young man. Don't you feel shamed of yourself for doing such thing in the hospital?"  
"You mean the... eh... the accident, sir?"  
"How could you, doctor Cleese? It's very unprofessional and absurd for a man like you."  
John was devastated that the accident of him stopping the young man from using the loo and eventually caused Idle wet himself was found out by the director.  
"I'm deeply sorry, sir. It won't happen again."  
"Good, and now take this little pooftah with you and go away! Do remember to leave your faggot business at home."  
"Who are you calling a faggot?" Said John to the impatient director.  
"Hurt your feelings, Cleese? If you've got guts to do such things, then be a man about it." The director snorted.  
"Look at him, Cleese." He pointed to Idle and lowered his voice. "Long-haired camp sissy. You don't belong to them! What's got into your mind?"  
Despite the fact that the young man didn't really hear their conversations and smiled at them, John felt rage coming out.  
"Don't call him long-haired camp sissy! "  
"Your FRIEND is a piece of shit! Mingling with this kind of people, what're you thinking about? Don't you defend him."  
"He's not my bloody friend. But I'll defend him any way."  
There goes the scene we saw just now.  
Idle tried to figure out what was going on and sort of wanted to offer help but he clearly underrated this circumstance.  
"John? Mr Parkinson? What're you doing?"  
But there was nothing he could do.  
But he got his chance to help at last, in the middle of wrestling, the director's cigar lighted up his own trousers.  
John shouted at him to get some water.  
Eric found a vase and took all the flowers out and...  
"What on earth are you doing to splash water at me?!" John stared at Eric. "Parkinson!"   
"Take off the trousers then!" John commanded.  
Then Eric rushed up to him and dragged his trousers down.  
"No, not me! Him! Him! " John was so mad that he was about to faint.  
"Who?"  
"For Christ's sake! Get out! Get the fuck out!" 

 

 

Not very long before this scene   
"Good afternoon, I'd like to see doctor John Cleese now." The young man beamed Idle walked into the hospital.  
"I'm afraid he's on his day-off today. Should I get you an appointment tomorrow morning?"  
"No, I'm not for appointments. How about tomorrow afternoon?"  
"I'm sorry that doctor Cleese doesn't see patients in the afternoon. He'd like a bit of..." the nurse made a hand gesture of drinking.  
"You mean, blowing a trumpet?"  
"Sherry!"  
"Blowing Sherry?!"  
"No! Drinking!"  
"I see what you mean. He said knowingly." Eric said.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"Nudge nudge. Eh? Drinking! See what I mean?"   
"I don't understand. What do you mean?"  
"Mean, eh? Nudge nudge. Say no more."  
"What's going on here, Miss Norman" The director showed up.  
"Nothing, Mr Parkinson. I'm making an appointment of Doctor Cleese for this gentleman here."  
"No, miss, I'm seeing him for personal reasons. Not for an appointment."  
"Personal reasons? Can't you see him after work?" Said Mr Parkinson.  
"After work, eh? See what I mean? Nudge nudge."  
"What on earth are you talking about? Where's doctor Cleese, Miss Norman?"  
"He's on his day-off, sir."  
They were interrupted by Mrs Jones and Mrs Parker.  
"Ah! It's that lad talking about stains, Clarice! Coming to see doctor Cleese again? I really don't understand these young men. Can't keep it in their pants even for a few minutes."  
"Is this what you called personal reason, young man?" The director examined Eric from head to toe.  
"I have nothing to say to you. It's none of your business. I'll come back tomorrow."  
"Wait a sec, this is my business. What're you doing here, sir?"  
"I said I don't want to tell you. It's between John and I. It has nothing to do with you." The young man named Idle said insistently.  
"I'm afraid I need you to come with me, sir. Miss Norman, will you please call doctor Cleese to bring him here? I want to have a word with him." The director said.  
"I don't want to come with you! I've done nothing wrong! "  
"There're magazines in my office. Will you come then?"  
"Well, alright."

No we haven't finished this part.  
In the office, Eric sat down on the sofa and made himself a cup of coffee.  
"What's your name, sir?" Asked by the director.  
"Eric Idle."  
"May I ask what's your relationship with our doctor Cleese?"  
"Just met him few days ago."  
"I see, how long have you been doing this with him?"  
"What do you mean how long? He started it! He actually talked me into it and shoved me into his office, demanding me to pull my trousers down. "   
To be clear, Eric thought the director was asking about that accident he wetted himself.  
"In the office?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"How shameless of you!" Mr director broke out.  
"Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I? I mean, all of your loos were broken and locked. Where can I go? I'd like to see you try running up and down the building when your old fellow is about to explode."  
"I'm sorry?"  
"You heard me. You bloody fat bald twit! It's your fault that I can't have a good time at a nice clean bathroom."  
Now the punchline.  
"But there's a public toilet right across the street!"  
There's more.  
"With a six foot neon sign!"  
And finally,  
"Says 'British foreign office'".  
That's it, ladies and gentleman, thank you.


	4. Together again at last... for the very first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't tell you it's a happy ending but the title clealy gives me away

"What have I ever done to get stuck with you?" John said while pulling his hair.  
"You know, giving blood will shorten your life." Said Eric who was sitting beside him on the curb outside the registry office.  
"Actually I checked that the bathroom on the second floor was open that day. Why did you say they're all closed?"  
"I didn't notice that! What a lovely day! Look at that piece of cloud!" Eric suddenly pointed at a very peculiar cloud which was hovering over their head.  
"And I found out that you registered for giving blood this Friday. But you said giving blood will shorten your life? Why did you do that?" John was getting more and more confused.  
"Life is too long to live, apparently."  
The younger man was dodging his eyes.  
"And I've come to the registry office far too many times but I haven't seen you even once before."  
"I just come to work here yesterday."  
"Listen, have I met you before?" John thought this delicate young man looked familiar.  
"No, I don't think so."  
"Cambridge, 1962. You're the one performing my sketch!"  
The young man named Idle lowered his head.  
"It's great to see you after all these years, John."  
Eric raised his head, his sea-blue eyes were shining under the sunset glow. His slightly long curly hair was messed up by the breeze with curls falling in his eyes. He looked lovely.  
John remembered him, much younger, performing his sketch on stage. Not very good, so this didn't leave him much of an impression. He was dragged away by Greg to meet his then girlfriend at that time and left halfway of the performing.  
He never got a chance to know this junior.  
"Why are you doing this?"  
"It's just silly, really. Sorry for causing you so much trouble. " He was about to stand up and leave.  
"You did great this time. Certainly improved a lot since you did my sketch." John held his arm to make him sit down. "So I'm about to offer you a new role, what do you say?"  
"You've been writing after college?" Eric looked at him with surprise.  
"No, but I just came up with a good one. A dinner sketch, performed by you and me. And probably a bedroom sketch, or possibly an office sketch or even a sketch at registry office. What do you think?"  
"Not leaving halfway of the show then?"  
"No, not this time. I've got to say that you use horrible puns. But I think we can work on this later."  
"Alright, alright. Anything you say, doctor Cleese."  
End


	5. Nobody was expecting that!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surely nobody was expecting that

"You know what I've seen this Sunday, Mrs Jones?! "  
"What, Clarice?"  
"That gay boy of doctor Cleese was wearing a wedding ring!"  
"Oh thank god he's finally find himself some decent women. When they're old enough, they'll realize what they did was truly absurd and disgusting."  
"No, Mrs Parker! So does doctor Cleese!"  
"Ha! Like I said, they'll all turn normal at last."  
"No, you silly old fruit! They got married! They even went shopping for trousers together."  
"Shameless. Anyway, dear, would you like to switch side tonight? My back's hurting me again."

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who read this:  
> it's actually really fun for me to write such offensive stuff.  
> again, apologies for using really bad puns.  
> I shouldn't indulge myself in playing with words before I can own a much bigger vocalbulary(look, I can't even spell "vocabulary" right without automatic spell check).  
> Monty python's works are very delicate in the use of english language and anyone who's interested in english learning should watch them. (well, actually I failed to understand their humor when I first saw one of their sketches years ago. But I've learned something these years to be able to appreciate their humor more than before)
> 
> John and Eric are my favorites, though I do love them all. Every one of them is(was, for poor Graham) wonderful being himself.  
> As I said in the notes at the beginning, John is very much dean-like, a very authority figure, perfect for playing teachers, officers, and administors.  
> While Eric can be perfect for playing characters bit effeminate(he looked so good in lady costumes) quirky and estute and can be extremely annoying sometimes.  
> I do think this pair will have truly amazing chemistry on screen. But I never can figure out why the spark between them was not so bright in contrast to their other sketches with Palin or Jones or Chapman. Although they both came from Cambridge, perhaps it was because of their four year age difference, they have differnet circles of friends. In early interviews of the group(yes, I've watched some from youtube), they didn't seem very close to me.
> 
> I'm glad that they did a tour called "together again at last, for the very first time" last year.  
> This title is really great and I used it to name my last but one chapter. In their recent interviews, they looked much closer than before. Maybe when you grew older, some of your friends pass away every year of your retired life, the four year age gap is not that big now.
> 
> I just knew that Terry Jones couldn't speak now. He made me like old crones so much and I particularly like to use the reference in my fics.It hurts me to think that one day, maybe not very far from now, these amazing intelligent people will no longer be on earth. 
> 
> I don't know whether this fic can be offensive to any of them. So the disclaimer is quite unnecessary. They clearly don't belong to me and I feel priviledged about being able to write about them. They are inspirations to me in every way and I'm trying my best to make this fic as funny as I can.(probably failed)
> 
> My poor use of english language would probably wake Graham from death, to which I'll endeavor.


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